


Wanderers

by StAnni



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: Stiles does wonder if Derek goes back to Stiles’ old house from time to time.  He imagines that Derek does and doesn’t tell him.  it would be a relief, really, to find out that at least some of these nights when Derek roams around till the sun finally rise, he spends at the old house – poking through the ruined bones, perhaps even thinking about them, about him.





	Wanderers

The night is quietly turning to morning outside and Derek isn’t home yet. 

This isn’t his home, Derek has said that a million times. But if it is always there, the one constant, the place he can always return to, does it not become his home.   
Stiles turns off the desk light and makes his way into the study. Derek didn’t want Stiles to move to the city, but Stiles had to. After his father passed away, there was nothing tethering him to Beacon Hills.

Stiles does wonder if Derek goes back to Stiles’ old house from time to time. He imagines that Derek does and doesn’t tell him. it would be a relief, really, to find out that at least some of these nights when Derek roams around till the sun finally rise, he spends at the old house – poking through the ruined bones, perhaps even thinking about them, about him. 

He tries Derek’s cell, he knows that it is useless – Derek never answers. He probably didn’t even take it with him, left it uncharged for days again.   
Derek hates it, loses it constantly, once threw it right through their apartment window during one of their more animated arguments. Stiles doesn’t want to go out to check up on Derek – he made that mistake before and Derek nearly left. Now he allows Derek these nights, which is not every night, but Derek’s darker nights to himself.

When Derek crawls back into bed at five thirty the sun is filtering into the sky outside.   
Derek’s tossed jeans and boots thud noisily next to the bed and Stiles reaches up, pulls Derek over him – his weight warm and heavy. Derek’s eyes are quiet but wild – so unreadable that Stiles kisses Derek, closing his worried gaze to Derek’s amused look and Derek returns the kiss, softly. “Miss me?” He says and his lips are cool against Stiles’ neck as he firmly catches his wrists to push them up underneath the cushions. “Always” Stiles answers. And even though Derek is there, firm, holding him down, Derek is not there – and Stiles misses him.

Derek is, which is not unusual, particularly aroused after his nightly wanderings and after pinning Stiles’ wrists under the cushions beneath his head, he wastes no time in pulling down Stiles’ briefs – hungrily getting him as naked as Derek in the half dark of the morning. 

“Your heart is beating so fast” Derek whispers, gravelly against his stomach and Stiles swallows – he knows. It is not just lust, it is want too, need – the nights away from Derek are taking their toll on him and his heart is literally tearing out of his chest when Derek is around, just to be near him.

“Less talking” Stiles breathes out, trying to distract Derek and Derek happily takes the bait – hitching Stiles up by the hips and parting his legs lewdly – stroking his own rock hard cock eagerly near Stiles’ own.

Derek enters him with a groan and gripping his hips, his head thrown back like it is a holy experience – just watching Derek slowly move into him is enough to make Stiles’ cock jerk against his stomach. And when Derek finally is sheathed, flush against Stiles, he moves over him – crouching possessively, his beautiful face – violent with want – inches from Stiles’ as he starts to thrust a mercilessly slow pace.

The proximity and intimacy bites around Stiles’ heart and he has to look away, he has to blink the tears away as Derek takes him over.

Afterwards, on the sheets that are damp with sweat and semen, Derek sleeps, his perfect back and perfect skin, perfectly olive against the white of the sheets. Stiles puts his head on that strong shoulder, listening to his breathing – deep, healthy – likely to live for a hundred years longer than Stiles, and his heart breaks, the cracks going just a little deeper each time.


End file.
